Identity
by HlysComment
Summary: Peter has always wondered about Neal's past and where his enigmatic partner came from. He has come up with some strange scenarios over the years but the truth is stranger than anything he ever imagined.
1. Chapter 1

**If you've read one of my previous White Collar stories you'll probably be surprised by this one. It's not a plot driven caper but a character piece. I'd like to warn readers that there is Neal whump and, though it is set in the past and not malicious, it is severe. I thought I'd give you a heads up on that.**

**As usual, I don't claim any right to White Collar or it's characters. I'm just fooling around.**

* * *

The boy screamed but held on. His body jerked and swung perilously close to the still rapidly moving tires, the rough asphalt stripped ribbons of flesh from his lower legs but he held on. He screamed until he ran out of breath then his lungs gulped more air before exploding again in the insuppressible scream. He felt a wrenching pain in his right shoulder and his right arm went numb but his fingers managed to remain locked on the interior car door handle.

Suddenly, finally, the vehicle stopped. The car door swung out, jerked violently then swung back with terrible crushing force on the boy's lower torso and upper legs. His hands finally let go of the door and he crumbled into a heap of agony on the cold unyielding parking lot. His blood pounded in his ears. The pain in his body never lessened or aged, with each beat of his heart, each rush of blood, the pain became fresh; a new experience.

Bodies crowded around him. Voices called. A woman wept. The boy began to shake. He felt arms encircle him and though they were soft and gentle, the touch of them sent new waves of pain rolling through his body. He began to vomit and someone turned his head firmly to one side until he was done. He coughed, the screams stilled for a brief second before they erupted from his lips unwanted and unbidden.

Someone had placed him on something warm, the hood of a car, he realized. Now a blanket was wrapped around him. His teeth stopped chattering and he managed to gain control of his lips enough to form a name, "Neal!" He screamed again and again.

Where was Neal? Where was his brother; his mirror image and other half?

Someone was placing less gentle but more confident hands on him. He was being tied. He struggled feebly but the pain subdued him. Still he screamed for his brother.

He felt an odd sensation and the world dropped lower and he surged forward. As he gulped another breath he heard another voice screaming. He wasn't sure he recognized it at first but it was screaming his name.

"Neal!" He screamed and heard the voice scream his name in return.

"Nick!"

Nick's mind clung to the knowledge that Neal was still alive. When the car had unexpectedly lurched forward he swore he'd seen his brother crushed under the deadly rear tires. But he could hear him. He could hear Neal screaming right there, just out of his reach. Nick tried to turn his head, to see Neal, but a collar held his head immobile.

The two brothers screamed and cried for each other as both were loaded into the waiting ambulance. Their wails rivaled that of the vehicle's siren as they were rushed to the nearest hospital. Nick gained enough control to speak.

"Neal," He screamed. "It's gonna be okay. It's gonna be okay." His teeth began to chatter again as a wave of hot pain seemed to break apart and shower him with a freezing spray. He cried for himself and for his brother. He hoped somehow Neal wasn't hurting like this but knew he probably was.

Then someone touched his hand. The straps holding his arm were gone and his hand was being stretched out into the nothingness beyond his peripheral vision. He felt a large hand placing a small hand, warm and slick with blood, into his.

"Neal?" He called.

"Nick." His brother answered and then they were both still. The two boys seemed to cling to the silence as they did each other's hands.

"I'll be damned." Nick heard an adult voice say and was shocked to hear the adult saying such a dirty word. Mommy only said dirty words when she was really, really, really angry.

Nick started to wonder what might have made the voice say that but the pain was strong and he didn't want to scream or cry anymore. He wanted to be still so he could hold on to Neal and hear if his brother needed him.

Neal had stopped crying. Nick suddenly became afraid and squeezed his brother's hand. Neal squeezed back and Nick might have sighed but he was afraid to open his mouth.

The ambulance stopped and Nick grunted in the pain even the slight movement caused. The doors opened. Sunlight streamed into his unprotected eyes. He squeezed Neal's hand. Neal squeezed back and then he was gone.

With a lurch the stretcher his brother was on moved forward and his brother was gone.

_No!_ Nick thought but screamed. "NEAL!"

* * *

Neal awoke bathed in sweat, his hand reaching up into the empty air searching for a phantom. He looked around the darkness of his room in June's house for a long moment before seeming to come to a decision.

He jumped out of bed and, grabbing a towel, headed for the shower.

On the bedside table the clock seemed to shout the time in bright blue characters: 4:15 AM.

* * *

Later that morning….

FBI Agent Clinton Jones observed the surveillance footage of Neal in the high-rise's elevator.

"You ever notice how Caffrey doesn't like mirrors?" He commented out of sheer boredom.

"What?" Was Diana's surprised response. The two agents sat in the stuffy surveillance van with their team leader Peter Burke waiting for Neal, who was posing as a fence, to complete the fairly simple bust of an art thief.

"Funny." Peter commented dryly.

Clinton shook his head. "No, I'm not kidding. Who's the guy you're always having go over the footage? Me, that's who. I'm telling you, every time Neal sees a mirror he's looking somewhere else."

Diana still looked skeptical. "But he's so fashionable."

Clinton shrugged and pointed to the monitor. "Just look."

Diana and Peter leaned forward taking a closer look at the footage and realized that the elevator was covered in reflective surfaces but Neal was focusing his attention on the instrument panel, the only non reflective surface in it.

"That's strange." Diana murmured. "I wonder why?"

Clinton shrugged. "I've no idea. I just noticed it."

"Huh." Peter said and then the tangent was forgotten as the elevator doors opened and Neal said quietly, "Here we go guys."

* * *

Later that day….

Peter glanced up and saw Neal walking in the direction of his office. Then it seemed Neal thought better of it because he turned on his heal shaking his head. But, no, now Neal had turned around again with a determined look on his face. … Aaaaand now Neal had turned away again.

Peter sighed and got up from his desk. He walked out to the balcony overlooking the pit and called to Neal.

"Neal."

Neal jumped slightly and looked up. Peter gave Neal what had been dubbed, "the double finger point"; a rather imperious gesture to 'come here'.

When Neal entered Peter's office he was uncharacteristically hesitant.

"What's up, Peter?" He asked.

"You tell me." Was Peter's reply.

Neal looked confused. "I'm sorry?"

Peter gave Neal a dubious look. "You looked like you were doing a rather literal interpretation of line dancing down there. So? You tell me. What do you want to talk about?"

Neal frowned and Peter already knew it wasn't going to be good if he wasn't trying to pass it off with a smile.

"I need to leave New York." Neal began slowly.

Peter's eyebrows went up. "Are you in trouble?"

Neal flashed a brief smile. "Thanks for not asking what I did wrong or who I pissed off."

Peter didn't take the bait and after a brief silence Neal continued.

Clearing his throat he said, "I need to make a visit." Neal seemed to be struggling with how to phrase his request. "It's private. Peter, I swear there's nothing shady or criminal about it but it's…I just really don't want everyone to know. I'd take public transportation. I'd keep the anklet on, obviously. It's not that far from the city. I could be there and back in two days tops. The…"

Peter held up a hand to stop Neal's suddenly rush of information.

"Neal," He chuckled. "there's just no way."

Neal's face fell. No, it darkened in a way Peter had only before seen after Kate died.

"Does this have something to do with Kate?" Peter asked.

Neal looked surprised. "No, what makes you think it does?"

Peter shook his head dismissing a subject on which he did not want Neal dwelling.

"No reason."

Neal seemed to consider that for a moment.

"Peter, what if you took me?" Neal asked with eyes closed.

"Neal," Peter stopped smiling. "seriously, what's up?"

"Will you take me?" Neal pressed. "It's just to Montclair. We could be there and back in a day if we take your car. Hell, it could be an afternoon with light traffic."

Peter started to say something but Neal interrupted, "Peter, please, I just need to visit someone there for 5 maybe 10 minutes. I know it seems strange but I just have to go."

Peter considered for a moment and shook his head. "I can't Neal. Not without more information. I'd have to have a pretty good reason to justify taking you across state lines to the Marshalls."

"It's just New Jersey." Neal protested.

"Which last time I checked is still not New York." Peter said, then muttered, "Thank goodness."

Neal's face flashed irritation at the comment but he remained quiet for a moment. "Don't they.." He started then paused.

"Don't they grant exemptions for bereavement?" He finally finished, once again with his eyes closed.

"They do." Peter leaned forward. "Neal, who died?"

Neal stopped avoiding Peter's peering gaze. "My brother. My twin brother, Neal."

* * *

**I hope the car accident wasn't too graphic for readers. I based it on personal experience. My sister and I were in what is basically this accident when we were kids only I was the one who went under the wheels and my sister was the one who suffered broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder and third degree abraisons on her legs. We both lived though. We were talking about it recently and I, for the first time, heard her side of the experience and I kept thinking about my husband who is a twin and my uncles who are twins and then this story idea popped into my head. I hope you like it.**


	2. Chapter 2

"So, Neal has a twin?" Elizabeth asked as Peter changed into more comfortable clothes. She smiled briefly as though the thought of another Neal out there wasn't an unpleasant one.

"Had a twin." Peter corrected. "His brother died when they were just kids. I think he said eight years old. And apparently, it's Nick not Neal."

"Neal's real name is Nick?" Elizabeth was still confused. "But he was tried as Neal. You're telling me Neal Caffrey is just another alias? Who can get you an alias good enough to pass through the legal system?"

"The legal system." Peter chuckled.

Elizabeth frowned. "I'm really not in the mood for cryptic today, Honey."

"Sorry," Peter smiled. "But I've got to admit it was pretty clever of him."

"What was?" Elizabeth fumed and Peter stopped what he was doing to focus on his irritated wife.

"Neal ran away to the city about four years after his brother died. He wouldn't say why and I didn't press the issue. Apparently shortly after he arrived he was caught trying to pick a pocket and arrested." Peter shrugged. "He was just a kid. No prints on file. When they asked his name during booking, they just had to take his word for it. They tried to locate his family but couldn't. For some reason, they didn't match him to a missing persons report either. They needed a social security number to process him so he was assigned one."

"And he picked his dead brother's name." Elizabeth frowned. "How did he die? The real Neal, er, Neal Campbell?"

"I didn't push too far on that." Peter admitted. "This visit is really important to him for some reason and he had to tell me about his brother in order to make it happen but you should have seen him, Elle. Everything about him said he didn't want to talk about it. I was fine with the bare minimum."

"Poor Neal." Elizabeth breathed but then frowned. "Or Nick? Should we be calling him Nick?"

Peter shook his head. "For all intents and purposes, he's Neal Caffrey now. I didn't see the need to make anyone aware of his other identity. You cannot imagine the paperwork storm that would kick off. I ran the name and it's clean. In fact, Nick Campbell was declared legally dead 7 years after Neal ran away."

"This is so weird." Elizabeth said.

"Well, it's Neal." Peter said gruffly. "Nothing can be simple."

* * *

Peter glanced to the right at Neal sitting quietly in the passenger's seat of the Taurus, staring out at the city. They entered a tunnel and suddenly the translucent glass framing a view of the city was transformed into Neal's reflection and Neal quickly straightened his posture and turned away.

Peter remembered Clinton's observation that Neal hated mirrors. It made sense. Peter's mind reeled as the implications of the death of a twin hit him. What would it be like for the surviving twin? To go through the rest of your life not wondering but knowing how your sibling would look? What would it be like for every mirror, every reflective surface to show you the face of a ghost?

Peter shuddered at the thought.

"You okay?" Neal asked.

"Yeah," Peter said. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's you I'm worried about."

"Me?" Neal seemed surprised and for some reason Peter found his surprise irritating.

"Well, yeah Neal." Peter huffed. "This is a trip to visit your dead brother so, yeah, I'm a little concerned."

Neal seemed to brush that off. "It happened a long time ago."

"Then why are we going?"

Neal considered the question for a long moment.

"Neal and I, man that's weird to say now, we had these plans. All these things we were going to do before we were 30. I mean, we were kids. We pretty much thought that 30 was the end of the line. That was it, you were old. So, we figured we needed to have the important things done by then."

"And what did young Neal want to be when he grew up?" Peter asked, intrigued.

"He wanted to be a jet setter. He wanted to travel the world. I kept asking him…" Here Peter shook himself as he realized that though he'd meant to ask about Neal, his partner was talking about his brother, "I kept asking him, 'Yeah, but what do you want to do? What do you want to be?" Neal chuckled. "He just said, 'Rich.' We finally settled on airline pilot for him."

"And what about you?" Was Peter's carefully worded follow up question. "What did you want to be?"

Neal shook his head.

"C'mon." Peter huffed.

"You'll laugh at me." Neal smiled.

"I won't. Promise." Peter insisted. "What? You want me to pinky swear?"

Neal sighed. "I wanted to be…a detective."

Peter laughed.

* * *

They had finally made their way out of the city and shortly thereafter the state of New York.

"Look around, Neal." Peter sighed. "We're in New Jersey, which the United States Marshall service assures me is a big deal."

"Thank you for doing this, Peter." Neal said contritely and Peter scowled.

"I wasn't fishing for thanks." He muttered.

They sat in silence as the surprisingly beautiful countryside rolled by. People tended to think of New Jersey as nothing but warehouses and factories but it was called The Garden State for a reason.

"Neal, I gotta ask." Peter said finally. "Why now? Why visit now?"

Neal frowned. "I thought I told you."

"You said something about being 30 but I didn't get an answer out of that."

"It's my, it's our birthday." Neal said.

"No, it isn't." Peter argued. "Your birthday is in June."

Neal cleared his throat. "Well, that's actually my Mother's birthday. It was the first thing that popped into my head when I was trying to think of what to tell the cops."

"I don't know you at all, do I?" Peter said.

He'd meant it as a joke but as silence filled the car he realized how true it was. How much did he really know about Neal? He hadn't even known his real name.

Interestingly enough it had taken them almost as long to leave the city as it had taken to cover the distance between New York and Montclair. Peter looked out at the picturesque town. From what he could see it was well maintained and cheerful with a stylish flair. He couldn't imagine a more appropriate place for Neal to have grown up.

"Take the next right and then the cemetery will be four blocks down on the left." Neal directed confidently. It was obvious this wasn't his first visit.

Peter found the place easily enough and Neal directed him down the narrow path to the correct section. Neal sat for a long moment after Peter cut the engine.

"You okay?" Peter asked, concerned.

"Yeah." Neal bluffed. "I'm fine. I'm just thinking."

Peter sat quietly. He honestly didn't know what to say.

"I know what you're wondering." Neal said at last. "It's what I'd be wondering. You want to know why I picked his name."

Peter remained quiet, deciding to just let Neal talk.

"After he died, my Mom…she just shut down. She was so different. It was like when Neal died, she did too but in a different way. I know that doesn't make sense. I'm sorry. I don't talk about this and I'm not getting the words right. Anyway, Neal was the brave one. That's the thing about twins, at least, all the twins I've ever known. They get in more trouble because there's always that other person backing you up. Neal was always leading the way and I…" Neal chuckled. "I'd follow him, man. What's that thing they say? Who's the bigger fool? The fool, or the fool who follows him?"

Peter smiled.

"Neal was the adventurer. He always had a plan and I just followed along. Then he died and I…my Mom would flinch when she saw my face."

Peter swallowed. He'd considered what it must have been like to see your dead sibling in the mirror but he felt sick when he considered what it must be like to see a dead child in the face of another.

"That's why I ran away." Neal continued. "It just felt like she couldn't look at me without hurting so…" Neal shrugged. "..so I left. And then I was out there and it still seemed so unfair. You know? Neal was the one with the big plans. He was the one who wanted to conquer the world, not me. Neal was the one who tried to teach me how to pick someone's pocket. When I got caught and they asked who I was, I said Neal. I thought at the time that it was just because it was the first name I came up with but now, now I think I did it because I really wished it was true; that he was the one who lived."

"Neal," Peter said. "Nick, whatever. Your brother's death wasn't your fault."

Neal jerked slightly at the comment.

"You're a great person and from what you've been telling me your brother was, too. You really think he'd want you to spend your life trying to be him? Would you have wanted him to be you if you'd been the one that died?"

Silent tears slowly tracked paths down Neal's downturned face as his lips turned upward in a small smile. "I don't think Neal could ever have been that boring."

"You calling law enforcement boring?" Peter said with a grin.

Neal chuckled softly and Peter gave his shoulder a light slap.

"C'mon." He said. "Let's go say hi to your brother and show him how good his brother turned out."

Neal turned to Peter with raw gratitude and Peter nodded. He wasn't sure why but it seemed the thing to do and apparently he was right because Neal nodded back, took a deep breath and opened the car door.

* * *

**To Be Continued...**


	3. Chapter 3

Peter heard the cemetery coming. Strange, but true. As they walked up the path Peter heard a cascade of ringing bells, tingling away. They reached the top of a low hill and Peter almost gasped at what he saw. The gravestones were the same he'd grown accustomed to seeing in cemeteries but they were covered with cheerful decorations and brightly colored toys many of them faded from exposure to the elements.

There were trees dotting the landscape, small ones that looked as though they'd been planted within the last decade, all except one. The largest by far, Peter judged at least five or ten years older than the others was covered in empty bottles. The still budding branches gave him a clear view and he counted over thirty bottles tied to them and tingling against each other in the breeze.

The other trees were full of similar noise making objects and wind chimes. The cemetery had been so typically forlorn but this area was bright, cheerful even and rang with a constant chiming music. As he followed Neal he noted that all the dates on the gravestones were painfully close together. He realized somberly that this section of the cemetery seemed to be reserved only for children's graves.

He looked at the faded toys and brightly colored decorations; the rainbow colored frames holding family photos. One grave was covered in snow globes, the kind you bought as souvenirs on vacation, each for a different city. Peter felt tears coming to his eyes as he imagined a mother or maybe father stopping in the midst of a family vacation to buy something to take back to little Carl Tanner, born April 3rd 1994, died January 18th 2000. He mentally worked out the math, not quite six years old. _Damn._

Peter's eyes burned and he tried to focus on Neal. Neal walked past the graves, seemingly undisturbed though Peter couldn't see his face. He seemed to be making his way to the large soda pop tree.

"It's wrong, isn't it?" Neal said, startling Peter.

"What?"

Neal stopped and looked around the desperately cheerful place.

"This place." Neal said. "These little graves. It's just wrong. It's like the children's ward at a hospital. You know it has to exist. You know it's better to have them together and to give them the kind of environment kids deserve but it's…" Neal seemed to struggle for the right word. "…it's so forced."

Peter didn't know what to say, so he said nothing. After a moment more, Neal started walking again and Peter followed.

The soda pop tree was almost at the crest of another low hill. Peter suddenly decided he liked hilly cemeteries. They seemed to help hide the vastness of the death surrounding you. Nothing like the endless stretches of uniform graves at Arlington, where Peter's father was buried.

They reached the tree and the overlarge gravestone sheltered almost cozily under its shade. Peter looked at the inscription but Neal seemed to be focusing on the tree.

The gravestone was the kind usually bought by couples with the last name carved in large lettering at the top and the individual names carved on either side. Peter crouched down to read them.

_Campbell_ It read. _Neal, Born March 31, 1979 Died October 6, 1987._

Peter was surprised at the next inscription.

_Nick, Born March 31, 1979 Died October 6, 1987._

"What?" Peter muttered under his breath.

"Weird isn't it?" Neal said a little too loudly. He was still playing with a few of the dangling bottles. "Surprised the hell out of me first time I saw it."

He turned one of the antique looking bottles so that the shaped and painted emblem was visible.

"Boylans Red Birch Beer." He commented as though he had not a care in the world. "It's like Root Beer only made with Birch instead of Sarsaparilla. It was our favorite. Mom liked it because they made it with sugar instead of corn syrup. She was very health conscious. She was a nurse. Did you know Sarsaparilla used to be used as a treatment for syphilis?"

Neal smiled but when Peter continued to frown he seemed to give up his attempt at levity. He jerked his head toward the gravestone.

"I don't think she ever forgave me." He finally breathed, his voice barely over a whisper. "I think that's why she did it. She wished I'd died that day."

"Neal" Peter almost laughed, it was so absurd. "That can't be. Neal, parents don't hate their children."

"Forget it." Neal said dismissively.

But Peter stood and grabbed Neal's arm.

"Neal, listen to me." Neal refused to meet Peter's gaze. "Parents don't hate their children."

"They do when…" Neal started to say but his voice broke and he turned away.

"When what, Neal?" Peter stepped in Neal's path and grabbed his arm again. "What is it that makes you think your Mother hates you?"

"I killed him, okay?" Neal shouted. "It was my fault! I …" Neal fought for composure but couldn't maintain it. "I didn't mean anything I just…he was so… It was his fault and he knew it and he knew I wouldn't tell. I never told on him and Mom was mad at me and he knew, he _knew_ it was all his fault but he was just grinning that nannynannybooboo grin of his and I just pushed him."

Neal's tear soaked eyes now sought Peter's as though looking for some sort of absolution.

"I swear, Peter. I didn't mean it. I just meant to push him into the back seat. I didn't know." He choked trying to hold back an almost hysterical sob. "I didn't know the car was going to move like that and then, then the door…I held on but I'd pushed him and it hit him so hard. I felt it. It hit him _so hard_. And he fell."

Neal shook his head as though he couldn't believe it, as if he were watching it happen again.

"He fell and the wheels went right over him and I just held on to the door."

Peter grabbed the almost hysterical Neal by the shoulders.

"Neal, it wasn't your fault. It was an accident. You know this. Neal, you're a smart guy. I know that big brain of yours is telling you the truth. This wasn't your fault."

"Then why did she hate me!" Neal screamed and collapsed in wracking sobs.

Peter knelt next to him hardly believing what he was seeing. Neal was strong. He was smart, capable and confident, always ready with a grin and quick remark. Neal wasn't this vulnerable, shaking and shaken man before him.

Peter felt cornered. He didn't know what to do or what to say. Neal was hurt. Neal was terribly, deeply hurt and all Peter wanted to do was fix it but he had no idea how.

So, Peter just knelt there and let Neal lean on him until he had calmed down.

"Um," Neal said finally in a rather stuffy voice. "Um, I'm.." He cleared his throat. "I'm really sorry about that."

He wiped roughly at his face and laughed self consciously. "Can we, uh, can we pretend this didn't happen?"

"I don't think so." Peter said.

Neal looked crestfallen.

"You got my suit wet." Peter finished soberly.

Neal laughed, the laugh was still edged with a sense of desperation but it was a laugh.

"At least it wasn't a nice suit." Neal jabbed.

Peter puffed. "I keep telling you, this is a classic."

Neal nodded, his smile more subdued than usual but there. "I think you should keep telling yourself that."

"Better for everyone." Peter agreed.

"Yeah." Neal smiled, the familiarity of the teasing seemed to have comforted him.

"I'll give you a minute." Peter said then.

"Thanks." Neal said.

"No problem." Peter dismissed the thanks and turned to leave but turned back when Neal called, "Peter, I mean it. I've never…I've never talked to anyone about this. I just…" Neal shrugged, at a loss for words. "Just really, thanks."

Peter nodded. "Well, you're on my team. That means I gotta look out for you."

Neal shook his head. "Not like this."

"Yes, like this." Peter insisted. "That's what being on a team means. You look out for each other on and off the clock. You have your partner's back."

"Partner's?" Neal asked.

Peter opened his mouth and then shut it. "You know what I mean." He said finally.

"I don't know what you mean. I know what you said and you said we were partners." Neal fairly sang.

"I didn't actually." Peter corrected. "I said partners have each other's backs. I never said we were partners."

"Peter." Neal said.

"What?" Peter answered, a little annoyed.

"Thanks." He smiled.

Peter smiled back. "You're welcome. I'll be right here if you need me."

As he turned to walk away the wind blew past carrying Neal's quiet murmur to his ears. "I believe you."

Peter smiled, gratified. He faced away from Neal and stepped out of the wind, trying to give his friend some privacy.

That's why he was the first to spot the unexpected guests.


	4. Chapter 4

Neal stared at the headstone. It hadn't been there for his first visit. Instead there had been the plain metal plate that had been all his mother could afford after his brother's death. When he'd finally come back years after he'd run away is when the larger, more ornate headstone had appeared. Neal remembered the first time he'd seen his name and the date of death. It had crushed him.

He'd matured and started to believe maybe his mother hadn't really blamed him for his brother's death. That, like many kids, he'd just taken on too much responsibility for what had gone wrong. The date of death had dissuaded him of those thoughts.

Peter made a noise and Neal smiled. He hadn't wanted to tell Peter. No, he'd been afraid to tell Peter about what he'd done but Peter hadn't judged him. He hadn't looked away with disgust. He'd believed Neal when he said it was all a terrible accident. That Neal hadn't meant for it to happen.

"Neal." He said quietly to the tombstone. "I tried to be you. It wasn't all bad but I made a mess of it. I think I'm doing what I was meant to do. I'm sorry, bro. I'm so sorry. I hope," He took off his hat and fidgeted with it. "I hope you're out there somewhere and…and I hope you're not angry with me. I don't think you are."

Suddenly Peter was there. "Neal. I'm sorry to interrupt but I thought you should have a heads up."

"What?"

But Peter didn't answer, he just pointed. Neal looked back down the path in the direction from which they'd come and saw two women, dressed in black.

One was slightly overweight and wearing a black polyester pant suit with a green cotton shirt. Grey streaked her dark red hair and her face was plump, freckled and pleasant.

She was holding the arm of and seemed to be comforting another woman.

The other woman was thin, so thin she looked almost frail. Her dress was a black silk sleeveless number with a large white sash built into the waist above a circle skirt cut just below the knee. She wore short black gloves, large rounded sunglasses and a small black hat set on tight, meticulous curls.

If Neal hadn't recognized her features, he'd have recognized her style.

"Mom." He breathed and Peter scowled. Neal started to say something along the lines of "Run" but it was too late. The women had spotted them.

The red head looked puzzled and had halted but Neal's mother moved forward entranced.

She removed her sunglasses and her tear rimmed eyes were rapt.

"Nick?" She gasped. "It's not possible. You're dead!"

Neal felt a physical pain in his chest and fought back a gasp.

"I'm sorry." He breathed trying desperately not to cry again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… I'll go."

He turned to run from her gaze. But she cried out and ran to him. He was so dumbfounded he stood stock still as his mother stumbled forward, her heels sinking deep into the soft earth as she cut across the grounds.

"No, please!" She called in tears. "Please don't leave again! Please!"

And then she had reached him and was hugging him and sobbing. Her hands ran over his face and shoulders as though she wanted to touch every inch of him and make sure he was real.

"I'm sorry, Nick." She sobbed. "Please be real. Please be here." She clung to his clothes in a vice like grip as though afraid if she slackened her hold for a moment he would vanish.

Neal was bewildered. He looked desperately to Peter, hoping that Peter would miraculously know what to do but Peter looked just as shocked.

Then the red head showed up.

"I'm so sorry, sir." She said trying to grab hold of her friend's hands. "You must look like one of her boys. Naomi, stop it. It can't be Nick, dear. Nick is dead."

"They never found a body!" Neal's mother cried to the woman and then turned her desperate eyes back to Neal. "It's you. I know it's you. Tell her, tell her you're you!"

The red haired woman had tears in her eyes as she continued to try to disengage her friend's fingers from Neal's jacket.

Neal knew he should say something. Peter was looking at him like he should say something but, though he opened his mouth, no words emerged. He stood dumb as him mind tried to process this reaction from his mother.

Finally he heard his voice murmur, "Mom?"

The red head dropped her efforts to pull her friend away in sheer shock and Neal allowed his mother to embrace him. After only a short moment he returned the embrace.

"I knew it." She sobbed. "I knew you were alive. I'm so sorry Nicky. I'm so sorry. Please, please forgive me."

Tears spilled down Neal's cheeks as he wrapped his arms around the frail woman.

"I think maybe we should all have a seat and talk for a bit." Peter said judiciously and pointed to a nearby bench.

Neal's mother grabbed his arm and only after she had secured her hold on him did she nod her assent.

Neal and she led the way with Peter and the red head following behind.

Peter had been puzzled and shocked by the reunion. So, it appeared, had Neal. Peter had worried that one of the two women approaching might be the mother who had so terribly hurt Neal but the last thing he'd expected were sobbed apologies.

But, then again, this was Neal. Nothing was ever simple.

After they'd had a seat on the bench, Naomi still clinging frantically to Neal's arm, Peter held out his hand in introduction.

"I'm Peter Burke." He said in what he hoped was a friendly tone. "I'm a friend of Neal's."

Naomi gasped but the red head held her hand out. "Sarah Tanner. I'm a friend of Naomi's."

She frowned. "I'm confused. I could have sworn Nick was the one who went missing."

"It was Nick." Naomi insisted.

"I changed my name." Neal said softly, hesitantly, as though he expected a rebuke but his mother grasped his head and pressed her forehead to his.

"Oh, my sweet boy." She cried. "Oh what did I do to you? I'm so sorry. Please say you're here because you've forgiven me."

Neal pulled away. "For what, Mom? I don't understand. Why would I forgive you when…" He swallowed. "..when it was my fault."

"Oh baby, that's what you need to forgive me for. For letting you think it was." She pulled a handkerchief out of her handbag and Peter couldn't help but marvel. The woman had an honest to goodness handkerchief. She had to be Neal's mother.

"The accident wasn't your fault, Nick."

Neal shook his head. "Yes it was. I pushed him. I know you know I pushed him."

His mother grabbed either side of his face. "Nick, listen very carefully to me. It was not your fault. It was an accident." But Neal continued to shake his head.

Peter interjected. "What exactly happened?"

Naomi sighed and hesitated but her friend Sarah had no problem.

"It was a terrible accident but nobody's fault. Naomi had taken the boys shopping. They were driving one of those huge boats, an LTD I think. Nick had for some reason stuck a piece of paper deep inside his ear and no one could get it out. Naomi was angry about it because they were going to have to go to a doctor and money was so tight she wasn't sure how she was going to pay for it. She told the boys to get in the car. Usually they sat on the front bench seat with her but she made them sit in back and she put the grocery bags in the front seat. One of the bags fell over while the boys were still getting in. It was full of cans and they wreaked havoc with the pedals. It sent the car flying down the parking lot and they almost crashed into a wall before Naomi managed to get one off the gas and another from behind the brake. Nick held on to the door handle and was drug the length of the lot. He was pretty badly injured; a dislocated shoulder, broken ribs and third degree abrasions. But Neal," She finally paused. "Neal had fallen under the rear tires. His pelvis was broken into several pieces and he suffered massive internal injuries. He held on for a few days but…he couldn't recover."

She grabbed Naomi's hand.

"Naomi had been struggling financially; it wasn't easy being a widow with twin boys in the 80's. The hospital bills, even after insurance paid were a huge burden but nothing compared to the fact that she blamed herself for the accident."

"What?" Neal gasped.

"If I hadn't," Naomi cried, her voice breaking as she struggled against tears, "If I hadn't made you sit in the back. If I'd put the groceries in the back like I always did, it wouldn't have happened."

"Mom, that's ridiculous!" Neal said.

"So is the idea it was your fault" Peter interjected. "Your brother would have been knocked under the car whether you pushed him or not."

"I didn't even know." Naomi sighed. "I didn't realize you blamed yourself until after you ran away. I was so full of my own guilt and grief, I didn't see yours. I was selfish. It was so hard to be around you. You and your brother were so close. I was so sure it was my fault, I was sure you knew. You'd look at me and I couldn't meet your eyes. I couldn't forgive myself for taking your brother away and then, after you left, after I read your note I realized that I'd taken your mother away, too."

"So, when you would flinch? When you'd turn away it wasn't because you hated me?" Neal asked in an awed voice.

"Oh, Nick. Oh baby, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I let you think that. If I'd known that's what you thought. I didn't see. It never occurred to me that you were blaming yourself."

"It never occurred to me that you were blaming yourself." Neal answered.

Naomi shook her head. "But I'm the adult. I was your mother. If I hadn't been wallowing in my own grief, guilt and self hatred you wouldn't have blamed yourself. You wouldn't have left."

"Then why did you make the headstone the way you did?" Neal asked, still hurt and confused. "Why did you give us the same date of death?"

Naomi sighed. "I put the date of the accident. Did you notice that? I didn't put the actual date Neal died. I put up that stone after you were declared dead. I put orders in my will for that date to be put on my tombstone as well. At the time, I felt like I'd killed both of you. First Neal with the car and then you with my stupidity." Naomi turned and was addressing Peter now.

"When Nick left he took some things, so I thought he'd just run away but then some of those things turned up in the surf on the shore. The police found them and cancelled the missing persons report. They were convinced between his things in the surf and the note he'd left that he'd gone to the nearest ocean access and drowned himself."

"What note?" Peter found himself asking though a voice deep inside was telling him it was none of his business.

"Nick left me a note when he left." Naomi explained. "It was the first I realized how much Nick blamed himself and it was too late. He apologized for killing his brother, that's how he worded it. He said" Naomi seemed to struggle with the words and Neal was looking in the general direction of his shoes. "He said that he knew his being around hurt me and that it was him that should have died."

"It's not true." Naomi said turning Neal's face toward her to reveal silent tears streaking down it. "Nick, it wasn't your fault. I'm so sorry. I wish you'd have had a better mother. I wish I'd been stronger. I wish I'd seen. Please say you forgive me."

"Mom," Neal tried to smile. "Mom, I love you. I don't know what to say. Of course I forgive you."

Peter felt a gentle tap on his elbow and looked up to see Sarah standing. She jerked her head off to the right and Peter got the message. He stood and they let the little family have a moment.

"I can't believe it." Sarah breathed.

Peter didn't know what to say. "Hmmphph." He mumbled.

"I was the one that convinced Naomi to finally put up a tombstone for Nick." She said. "I was sure he'd committed suicide and she was still so guilt ridden and miserable. I thought being able to have a place to grieve for the boys together would help. When she gave them the same date of death, I never imagined Nick seeing it or what message that would send."

"Well, Neal, er, Nick's been through a lot I guess."

"He took his brother's name?" Sarah asked.

"Yeah, apparently he'd intended to try to live out his brother's dreams too."

"It's so tragic." Sarah mused.

They stopped in front of the grave with the snow globes.

"I can't imagine a greater curse than to watch your child die." She said quietly after a long silence.

As Peter stared at the grave he suddenly remembered Sarah's last name, Tanner.

"Is this your son?" Peter asked.

Sarah smiled sadly and nodded. "Leukemia." She said. "That's how I met Naomi. She was a nurse at the hospital and she was an angel. So compassionate and understanding. Naomi came to the funeral for Carl and then brought me over to Neal's grave. We started visiting here together. It's hard to explain to someone what it's like to lose a child. It's so much easier to have a friend who just understands. Everyone's grief is different but it's still more common ground than you have with most other people."

Peter looked again at the neatly arranged snow globes. "I can't imagine."

"I can't imagine how hard Nick's life has been." Sarah said. "But it hasn't been a bed of roses for Naomi either. Her husband died when she was pregnant. She didn't have any other family. A woman alone with twin boys and then she lost the one. Nick was withdrawn and in her guilt she became convinced that he blamed her. Then he disappeared and she realized the truth, that her son had been guilt ridden himself, looking for reassurance from her but afraid to ask for it because of that guilt." Sarah sighed. "It's practically Greek it's so tragic. A comedy of errors. Everywhere you look you think, If only this..If only that."

Peter looked back at Neal and Naomi. They were murmuring quietly to each other and holding each other's hands as though each were afraid to let the other go.

"Well, this time it came together."

"About time." Sarah said and Peter smiled.

After several hours Peter reluctantly approached the little family.

"I'm really sorry but Neal, if we don't get back inside the New York state line in the next hour they're gonna set loose the hounds."

Naomi frowned when Peter called him Neal. "I don't know how I'm going to get used to that. I'm so sorry, Sweetie. You don't have to keep your brother's name. You don't have to live his life. You deserve a life of your own."

Neal smiled. "I may have Neal's name but trust me, I'm not trying to live his life anymore. I'm living for me, don't worry about that, Mom."

"Okay," Her eyes brimmed with tears as they stood to say good-bye. "I'll come visit you soon. I'm very interested to meet this June woman and Peter's wife sounds lovely."

Neal smiled with bright eyes. "You'll love them, Mom, and they'll love you."

He started to let go of her hand and she rushed forward to embrace him.

"Don't disappear, Darling. Please." She said suddenly crying again.

Neal held her close, petting her hair comfortingly. "Don't worry, Mom. I'm not going anywhere."

He pulled the tiny woman out to arms length. "I can't remember? I've got a tracking device attached to me."

She laughed shakily. "Yes, every parent's dream. Yes, yes you're right. I'm being silly."

"I think after a day like today you're entitled to a little silliness." Sarah stated.

Neal and Peter said their goodbyes and, after several more hugs from his mother, they left.

* * *

The car was very still for quite some time before Neal broke the companionable silence.

"It was Neal's fault I had the paper in my ear." He said. "He tricked me. He was always tricking me."

"Gee, wonder what that feels like." Peter said.

Neal grinned, unapologetic.

"Neal pretended to stick a little piece of paper in one of his ears and pull it out the other. When really what he'd done was placed a piece in his left ear and then palmed the piece her pretended to be sticking in his right."

Neal shrugged. "I believed he'd done it and shoved a piece of paper as far down my right is as possible trying to pull it out of the other side. Mom flipped when she couldn't get it out. She was so angry with me. She never knew that. I told her today and it was the first she'd heard of it. She said that we could just as easily blame the accident on Neal as on each other. I can't believe we were so stupid."

"Grief does terrible things to people." Peter comforted. "It messes with your mind."

"I'm just glad it's sorted out finally." Neal sighed. "Peter, we can leave my Mom off the official record, right?" He asked.

"I'd already decided that. It'd be too much paper work to set things straight."

"And we all know how much you love paperwork." Neal smiled.

"Yeah, well, I'll forgo the pleasure this time." Peter smiled back. "Besides, there's…"

"Fowler." Neal finished for him. "Or whoever he's working for."

"Yep," Peter said. "It's just better no one know about your Mom."

"Thanks, Peter."

There was another long silence.

"So, how'd your things end up washing up on a shore?"

"I threw them off a peer." Neal answered.

Peter shook his head. "Always the dramatic gestures. Why'd you take them in the first place?"

"Well, at first, I was just leaving." Neal said. "Then I got to the ocean and it was so big. I realized I could be anyone. I didn't have to be Nick Campbell, the guy who killed his brother." Neal held up a hand at Peter's protestation. "I know I didn't kill Neal but I felt like it at the time."

Neal shrugged. "So, I just chucked it all off the end of the peer and started from scratch."

"And they found your stuff and your Mom thought you were dead."

"Yeah" Neal frowned. "That hadn't really occurred to me."

"Seems like there's been a lot of that going around." Peter said. "You okay?"

"I don't know." Neal said truthfully. "I'm happy that I was wrong and angry at the confusion, at how much it cost both of us. We were so hard on ourselves, we ended up being cruel to each other."

Silence descended again.

This time Peter broke it.

"I was wrong, you know." He said.

"About what?" Neal asked.

"I said I didn't know you." Peter answered. "But I realized something today."

"What?"

"I realized that it doesn't matter what your name is or where you came from, I do know you. I know who you are because I know how you act, how you treat people. I know you, Neal, and" Peter cleared his throat and ended awkwardly but firmly, "and I'm happy to."

Neal stared for a long moment.

"Thanks, Peter." He said finally.

"Don't mention it." Peter dismissed and Neal smiled.

"No, seriously, don't mention it." Peter insisted. "I've had enough emotions flying around today. I'm dropping you off at June's and then I'm going home, hugging my wife and sleeping until Monday."

Neal smiled. "Sounds like a plan, partner."

"We're not partners."

"You said it." Neal sang.

"I'm your team leader, not your partner."

"Say what you like now but you know and I know that you called me your partner."

"I did no such thing!"

"I love you, too, Peter." Neal teased.

"We'll see how much you love me when I throw your ass back in jail."

"You're so cute when you're angry."

"Neal."

"How do you do that with your forehead anyway?"

"NEAL!"


End file.
